Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Now, getting Westley to sleep requires near-silence and relative darkness. I rock him in the small, windowless nursery with the lights off and the door closed, counting to 600 before transferring him to his crib. Once he's out of my arms, I start to move like I'm balancing something heavy and breakable. I watch where I step, hold my breath, tiptoe and whisper. Rob looks up to ask if the baby's asleep, and I put my finger to my lips--shh--our sign for "just put him down, sleeping lightly" (as opposed to the eyes-closed, head to the side face we use to signify "completely out like a trout"). I make as few trips up and down the hall as possible, even if it means not peeing for a while. My toothbrush seems too loud.
It slows me down, and makes me antsy at the same time. Whenever Westley's asleep, I feel like I should be doing all those things that I remember need to be done when he's awake and I'm busy with him. There's a three-column To Do list on my refrigerator; I'd like to be crossing things off it. But after 600 counts in a quiet, dark room, housework and organization and even tidying up seem too noisy and bright. The TV seems thunderously loud, even with the volume set to "barely audible."
I climb in bed, tired and wanting to sleep, but annoyed that there's nothing else I can accomplish without waking the baby. I close my eyes, and think good thoughts for every person I can think of. Occasionally, I'll hear Westley fussing in the dark. "Shh," I say to him. Time to sleep. "Shh."
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
A is for Already?!
B is for Babbling Blah blah da.
C is for Creeping, but not for Crawling.
D is for Diaper, pronounced "Dye-uh-pa" for fun.
E is for Eating.
F is for Flirting.
G is for Going to bed with your Green blanket.
H is for Hair. You pull mine and pet your own.
I is for I swear you were just in my belly.
J is for Johnny Jump Up.
K is for Kisses.
L is for Little Man.
M is for Monkey.
N is not for Napping.
O is for "Oh my God, you grew in the night!"
P is always for Pee.
Q is for Quiet. Shh. Baby's sleeping. Finally.
R is for Riding the bus.
S is for Sitting on your own.
T is for Teeth. Toofers. Two of 'em.
U is for Us.
V is for Very early to rise.
W is for What would I do without you, West?
X is for Xylophone, because X is always for Xylophone.
Y is for your Yummy ears and cheeks and toes.
Z is for Z' Best Little Man Evah. Zeriously.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
But be prepared to have this discussion if you decide that it's all right to leave your pants-less baby on the floor for a minute while you check on dinner. Oh, you may hear a noise or two that makes you think, "Was that poop?" But when you go over to see what the noise was about, stick around a minute or two before deciding, "Nah, just gas." Seriously, wait a minute. If you don't, you may find only seconds later that your child--your sweet, darling, innocent baby--is belly-down in a smeared, poopy mess. And tasting it.
I wish I were making this scenario up. I really, really do. But no. I keep thinking about making a joke about the finest restaurants in France beginning to serve smeared floor-poop this season, but...ugh. Some things are just wrong.